The first sensation was the cold. It radiated from the stone wall, pressing through her shirt and chilling the skin of her back.
River forced her eyelids open. The movement felt heavy, like waking from a drug-induced stupor. She blinked, waiting for her vision to adjust to the gloom. She didn't know exactly where she was, but the environment was unmistakably hostile.
A cell.
She was lying on the floor, curled on hard, grey tiles scuffed with the skid marks of countless boots that had come before her. The room was dim, illuminated only by a single, naked bulb dangling from the ceiling. On the far side sat a bunk bed, its mattress thin and the sheets tucked with military precision—a strange semblance of order in a place that smelled of rust and fear.
She shifted, groaning as her muscles protested, and turned to her left. Her gaze drifted up the wall and locked onto a symbol painted in jagged black strokes.
Her breath hitched, trapping a scream in her throat.
The Ryker Brothers.
The symbol mocked her. Instantly, memories assaulted her—violent and bloody. She saw the flash of Alpha Ryker's smirk as he watched her father's pack burn to the ground. She saw the carnage.
Alpha Ryker was not just a leader; he was a butcher. He was the reason she was fatherless. He was the reason she had been stripped of her rank as an Alpha's daughter, forced to flee to a new pack as an Omega, and left vulnerable to the torment of people like Caden.
The Ryker Brothers Pack wasn't just any pack. They were the outliers, the rebellious powerhouse of the North. History said they started off as rogues—ruthless wolves who threatened mass slaughter until the Werewolf Committee had no choice but to legitimize them just to keep the body count and death toll down. Their territory was a fortress. If you weren't one of them, you didn't walk out alive.
And now, River was here. In the belly of the beast.
Panic clawed at her chest. She scrambled backward until her spine hit the wall. Think. What happened?
The woods. Uncle Derek.
The betrayal hit her harder than the fear. Derek had sold her. The memory of his voice resurfaced, sickeningly polite as he told the masked men to "thank their Alpha for the mouth-watering price."
Tears pricked her eyes, hot and angry. How could she be so stupid? How could she fall for his act twice?
Five years ago, he had used a family dinner as a trap to lure her to the Pack pond, nearly selling her then. Her father had saved her that day. But her father was gone now, and she had let Derek back in, believing his tears, believing he wanted a second chance.
He wasn't family. He was a monster.
River's sob died in her throat as the heavy thud of footsteps echoed down the corridor.
She froze, pressing herself tighter against the cold stone. There were two sets of footsteps approaching—one heavy and purposeful, the other dragging, stumbling, light.
A man in a guard's uniform appeared at the bars. He held a girl by the arm, her feet barely touching the ground. With a grunt of effort, he unlatched the heavy iron door and shoved her inside.
The girl hit the floor hard. She didn't fight; she just landed in a heap of limbs and dirty white fabric. The guard didn't spare them a glance. He slammed the gate shut, locked it, and stalked away, his heavy boots fading into the distance.
The new girl sat up slowly, scooting backward until she hit the wall opposite River. She was wearing a sundress that had been shredded at the hem, stained with dirt and grass. She buried her face in her knees, her shoulders shaking as she gasped for air.
River watched her, wariness battling with empathy.
"Are you okay?" River asked. Her voice was a croak, dry and weak.
The girl nodded frantically, though she didn't look up.
River sniffed the air, trying to catch a scent, but the dungeon was damp and masked it. Still, she guessed the girl was an Omega. River's eyes traced the bruises on the girl's arms—old, yellowing claw marks mixed with fresh scrapes.
A mateless Omega, River realized.
Only wolves without a mate carried scars that long. A mate's bond heightened healing; wounds like that should have vanished in minutes. River knew the look well. She was a mess herself—bruised, battered, and healing too slowly.
Finally, the girl lifted her head. She had tanned skin and captivating hazel eyes that darted around the cell in panic. Her gaze landed on the wall above River, fixing on the black symbol. Her eyes widened.
"This is the Ryker Brothers Pack," River said softly, confirming the girl's terror.
The girl looked at her, trembling. "We… we are in the Ryker cells?"
River nodded grimly.
"How… how did you get here?" the girl whispered. Her accent was slight, maybe Asian, her voice brittle.
"They sold me," River admitted, the words tasting like ash. "My uncle… he sold me to this pack."
The girl's face crumbled. "My stepmother," she whispered back. "She did the same. She sold me."
A heavy silence settled between them. They were strangers, yet bound by the exact same tragedy. Betrayed by blood, sold for profit.
River looked at the girl—terrified, trembling, and completely alone. She felt a strange surge of protectiveness. If they were going to die here, she didn't want to do it in silence. She needed to break the tension before the weight of it crushed them both.
"Well," River said, forcing a dry, humorless chuckle. "I think we share the same fate. Please tell me you don't have a wolf? I've spent years looking for a partner in crime who's as defenseless as I am."
It was a risky joke. Too dark, too soon.
The girl stared at her, blink-less, and River worried she'd pushed too far. But then, a bark of laughter tore through the girl. It wasn't a happy sound—it was bordering on hysterical—but it bounced off the stone walls, loud and defiant.
River joined in, laughing for the first time in months. It was the laughter of the damned, but it felt good.
"Yes, I don't have a wolf," the girl gasped as the laughter subsided into jagged breaths. "I had one. But she left me after my fourth rejection."
River's smile faltered. "Fourth? That's… that's a lot. You're too pretty to be rejected four times."
A faint pink blush stained the girl's cheeks. "What about you? Any rejections?"
The air left the room. River's mind flashed to Caden Caldwell. The humiliation. The pain. The way he had looked at her like she was nothing.
"Just one," River swallowed, pushing the memory down. "But I would have taken ten normal rejections over the mess that one was."
She blinked back the tears threatening to spill. She wouldn't cry for Caden. Not here.
"I'm Aubrey," the girl said softly into the silence. "Aubrey Maddox."
"River. River Bradley." River offered a small, sad smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Aubrey."
River leaned her head back against the wall. She was a slave. She was in the hands of her sworn enemy. But as she looked across the cell, she realized one small mercy.
At least she wasn't alone.